Tag: Vanlife

Traveling solo comes with a lot of upsides. There’s the freedom of doing exactly what you want at any time, the ease of finding a place to crash since one body takes up very little space, and, in the case of van travel, the fact that you have the whole bed to yourself, which is significantly more comfortable than sharing in such a cramped space.

I’ve seen about 7.2 million articles and blog posts praising and encouraging the solo wanderer, and I absolutely agree that it’s something every traveler should at least try, but I’m not here to talk about the positives of going through the world alone. Not today, because I have been stuck on expelling this dark, sticky, ugly part of traveling from my head and into words since about three months into my time in New Zealand – and the way this nastiness affected my life has been a big reason that I haven’t been able to write about anything with grace or flow since my last post.

This is not a very happy post, so here’s a preemptive Kea

Depression as a solo traveler is rarely blogged about (and you certainly won’t see it on Instagram or Facebook), but I know it exists, because for the last 12 months living a transient lifestyle, it has been my only constant companion.

There’s nothing pretty or inspiring about depression – for every day I spent in some of the most beautiful places in the world, I had two or three days of struggling to convince myself to do something as basic and fundamental as getting up to brush my teeth.

Those aren’t the days that you want to show. Those aren’t the days that make you feel like you’re really taking life by the balls. But with depression, they are inevitable.

During the worst times, the only thing I consumed in a day was a(n entire) bottle of wine (or box wine aka goon – $20 for the equivalent of 4 bottles, thanks New Zealand!), and as much Netflix as I could afford to watch on the extremely expensive campground wifi. I would view my situation from the outside and wonder how it was that I could be living such a crazy awesome adventure, and still not find the motivation to get out of my nest of a van. That’s the thing about depression, it doesn’t make a lick of sense, even to those in itss terrible, terrible embrace.

Luckily, the worst times were few and far between, but even when depression eases up, or amazingly takes a break long enough to go on a three day hike and enjoy every minute of it, there’s that niggling knowledge that it’s always just there, looming over my shoulder, searching for a weak moment to extort and exacerbate.

BUT (yay there’s a but)

I never for a minute let the fact that I was dealing with this clingy, incessant shadow convince me that it wasn’t worth continuing to try. Sure, when it’s day 3 of feeling worthless, of not showering or even leaving the van except to pee, and I’ve read two entire books that weren’t even particularly good, it might feel like it would be easier to just sell the van and buy a ticket home. But then what? I’m not saying that isn’t the right move for some people, especially if you are feeling suicidal or are a legitimate danger to yourself, but for me, I wasn’t at that point, I couldn’t let the depression win, and I definitely didn’t believe going home would affect its omnipresence.

So I analyzed my situation time and again, working toward bringing myself back to feeling unburdened, pushing away the heaviness that enveloped my limbs and mind, and coming back to myself again. At this point, after years of just dealing until it resolves itself, I’ve discovered a decent strategy to expedite my recovery process. Not sure if it can help anybody else, but I hope someone else will find it useful.

I allow myself to feel/be depressed

Instead of being frustrated or ashamed that I feel awful and useless, which was my reaction for a very long time, I’ve learned that I have to accept it, let it happen, and do my best to care for myself emotionally. There’s nothing more counterproductive than getting upset that I’m upset.

Like yeah that makes sense, just send yourself into a shame spiral, Kayleigh. That should fix everything.

I set a time limit

This can be difficult, because if I don’t stick to my planned “depression allowance,” I still have to follow rule number 1. But, I found that if I allow for 2-3 days (depending on depth of depression, weather, life circumstances, etc) of not forcing myself to do anything at all, it’s almost like I can recover the emotional strength it takes to begin pushing the shadow away.

I look for inspiration, and plan something I love

Particularly aimed at travelers or people who live in more outdoorsy places, there’s nothing better for my state of mind than getting outdoors in an active way, such as exploring someplace beautiful, going climbing, or running along the ocean. At some point during my self-allowed hiatus from life, I look to adventure sites or Instagrams to find someplace to go for an activity that I know regularly gets me out of my head and into the world again. Anything that has successfully beaten back that dickbag depression in the past is fair game. I mark it mentally and use it as an option when he’s setting up camp again. Just the thought of a trip or activity on the horizon is sometimes enough to get my determination back.

I follow through, even if I have to push plans back

Easily the most difficult part of my strategy, it’s also the most crucial. Getting out and actually following through on the hike, or climbing trip, or whatever else, is about 75% of the battle. Not easy, because the longer I am a blob of hopelessness, the less willpower I have to move my body, but after even just an hour into my chosen activity, everything begins to make sense again, and I can feel life returning in a wildly refreshing way.

I’m currently in an upswing – riding a pretty awesome wave of happiness after three weeks in Colorado, which has made it easier to write about my experience in a more detached, objective way. I’d like to continue writing, even if I’m the only one who reads it, so I’ll post an update on my life and what my next move is (because I’m not done traveling) later this week.

Nothing I’ve said here should be considered a 100% cure for depression, and I’m definitely not saying that anything I’m doing should replace an anti-depressant or therapy (though I am not utilizing either at this time). I just want to share my experience with people so they know that it is possible to have enjoyment and feel like you’re living your life while battling depression.

PLEASE READ:

If you are experiencing depression, anxiety, self harm, eating issues, or anything else, and need someone to talk to, please feel free to message me. I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL (clearly), and I urge you to talk to one for definitive help, but I understand that even just having someone who cares and will listen is extremely comforting and helpful.

“You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and God damn it, you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about the business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way.”

Tragedy struck this traveler last week when, quickly and completely, Grandpa Jimmy emitted his last sputter and rolled to a stop going uphill on my way to the Kaimai Mamaku Forest. If I had been more savvy to the rattling that had started mere minutes before, maybe I could have saved him, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t.

Jimmy being towed to his grave

The past week has been a blur of stress and decision-making. My first options were immediately: a) fly home (pfft nope) b) switch out the engine for a used one c) make my way by foot or d) find a new van with what was left of my meager savings.

After the news that a new engine would be several thousand dollars and would likely still cause problems in the future, plus some serious soul searching on how I wanted the rest of my year here to go, I decided to start the search for a new home and livelihood. The universe did not disappoint.

I’d like everyone to meet Tia Rose, the bright savior of my NZ life.

She’s had a number of parts recently replaced and passed her wof (warrant of fitness – required in NZ) with flying colors. She’s a 1993 Toyota Estima Emina, and is supposed to run forever. On top of that, she came with some beat up but usable toys including a kayak, surf board, and bike/bike rack! Not a bad package. Plus golem is holding a kiwi, where else are you gonna see that?

Anyway, I’m currently looking for a job and hoping that the set backs in my trip have all happened up front and it will be smooth sailing from here!

Nine days anywhere isn’t nearly enough time to discover everything about a place. You CAN discover a hell of a lot about yourself though.

After three days in Auckland, I had made four new friends, bought a campervan by the name of Grandpa Jimmy, and decided the first direction I needed to travel was north. Beyond that, my days stretched before me, filled only with possibility. I had no set plans, nowhere to be, and only my map and some basic googling to guide me. If I thought about it too much, I may have booked a flight back before I’d even made it out of Auckland.

I tried to keep the thinking to a minimum.

Instead, I took out my map -which I inherited along with Grandpa Jimmy, and which was filled with notes from previous users on interesting places, cheap campsites, and the best Kiwi-spotting trails – and picked a town with a beach as my first destination. That random town, called Orewa, marked the start of my real journey through New Zealand.

Over the next week, I kept driving north, turning onto roads with signs such as “Glowworm Caves” or the understated “Beach” as I went. I met a native Kiwi in Whangarei who had just returned from two years as a mountain guide in Norway, hiked the Whangarei Heads, learned how to say “love” in Maori (Aroha), and spotted a blur of a Kiwi on an island by Kerikeri. I kayaked across an inlet to hike the Houhora Heads, found the most perfect seashells I’ve ever seen, and saw the sun rise over Cape Reinga.

Alongside all those amazing experiences, came discovering the pitfalls of the unplanned. I took way too many wrong turns, caught myself driving on the terrifying (right is wrong) side of the road, accidentally bushwhacked my way up a mountain, and completely shredded my front left tire. Currently, I’m sitting inside a beautiful public library, having finally found free wifi, and I can seriously say that even the most – normally – stressful experiences have been enjoyable.

I said 9 days is enough to discover a lot about yourself. So after this crazy week, what have I discovered?

I discovered that my patience can last far longer than I expected. I’ve learned how to entertain myself for hours, or struggle through public transportation with a comically large backpack, or even survive without cell service (I think that will always be my least favorite).

I discovered joy in facing fears – by pushing myself to conquer steep scrambling, utterly destroying night hikes (I’ve always been terrified of the dark), and taking on the horrifying task of talking to strangers.

Most importantly though, I discovered how much I can trust myself – to find my way, be alone, and ask for help when I need it.

There’s something about having nowhere to be that brings life into focus.